


Lost With You

by reassembleme



Series: Of Prompts & Drabbles [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Post-season 7, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 09:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16015136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reassembleme/pseuds/reassembleme
Summary: You’ve always felt like home.





	Lost With You

Lance jolts awake in the hospital bed, drenched in a cold sweat. He groans, bringing a hand to his still healing ribs. He curls his legs up against his torso, chest heaving as his eyes slowly regain focus in the dim room. He leans forward, head falling onto his knees. He shivers, the dream still tangible at the edge of his consciousness. Cold, alone in the dark expanse of space. He screams and he screams and he screams, but no one answers. No Red, no Paladins, just him. Just Lance, lost in some forgotten corner of the universe. His screaming stops, uneasy acceptance melding with his panic. He floats, eye closed, drifting away into nothingness. The nightmare is familiar, and he forces his eyes open to keep it at bay. 

He drags a deep breath through his lungs, and he shakes his head. His heart hammers in his chest, an untethered thing that nearly chokes him. He gingerly brings his feet down onto the cold sterile tiles, wrapping himself in the robe the nurses provided. He’s well enough that the doctor has allowed him movement when he needs it. He doubts that entails a midnight stroll, but sleep is definitely not an option tonight. He pads quietly through the sleeping ward, careful to avoid any lingering nurses. His fingers ghost the walls as he wanders the silent halls, grounding him.

Almost of their own accord, his feet bring him to Keith’s door. He allows himself a small smile.  _ Of course. _ Doubt crowds his mind, hand raised at the handle. Would Keith even want to do this anymore? He risks it, cracking open the door.

Keith is seated on the window sill, the curtains drawn back to gaze at the stars. Lance remains unnoticed, and he finds himself drinking in the sight of him. Keith’s profile glows in the moonlight, all the sharp lines of his features softened by an exhaustion he never shows.

Head bandaged and one leg pulled up against him, he looks smaller. There’s a look on his face that Lance doesn’t recognize, something vulnerable that doesn’t suit Keith at all. For once he finally looks his age, and Lance remembers just how young they all are. A pang in his chest, and he’s clearing his throat.

Keith whips his head back at Lance, surprise melting into warm recognition. He smiles at him, a gentle thing that tugs at the corner of his eyes. Lance grins in return. He can’t remember the last time he saw that smile.

“Can’t sleep?” He says, voice hoarse. Keith shakes his head.

“Bad dreams. You?”

“Bad dreams,” Lance says. Keith beckons him over. 

Lance closes the door behind him, moves forward to make himself comfortable on Keith’s bed. He crosses his legs under him, and it’s almost like they’re back in the Castle. A silence falls over them, the shared quiet of two tired boys. They stare at the stars together, and Lance pictures them back on one of the observation decks. They were each afraid of what awaited them in their dreams; of what awaited them outside the castle walls. Keith had been the Black Paladin then, too. 

They’re boys; boys playing at men in a war that outdates their very civilization. They distracted each other in any way they could. They planned and trained, and, when business exhausted itself, they talked. Well, Lance talked, but Keith proved to be a very attentive listener. In those many shared nights, Lance likes to imagine they had found solace in each other. Lance enjoyed the Keith he was allowed to see in those evenings. He had feared he’d never see that Keith again when he left. He never wanted to admit it, but his presence was an anchor in the sea of war.

Heart in his throat, Lance stands to join Keith on the windowsill. He hugs him. It’s new for both of them, but it feels right, long overdue. Keith is stiff in his arms for a few awful moments, dread curling in Lance’s gut, but soon he melts into Lance’s embrace. They stay like that for a long time, listening to the beating of their hearts and the beeping of the hospital machines. 

Lance shifts, laying his head in Keith’s lap, tension slipping from his shoulders. Sleep catches Keith first, and Lance is quick to follow, dreams at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!!


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